[Veiled Serpent]

Kael had spent some time researching the kingdom's shadowy underworld, and what he uncovered left him unsettled.

The largest and most powerful organization controlling the black market was known simply as The Veiled Serpent.

For years, it had operated silently, weaving an intricate web of information trade, forbidden goods, and political influence across the entire kingdom.

The terrifying part was this:

The king and the dukes seemingly had no quarrel with The Veiled Serpent.

In fact, many whispered that they maintained secret agreements—silent pacts that kept the fragile balance of power in place.

This meant that ordinary people, even ambitious knights, had no hope of reaching the Serpent directly.

Only the most powerful nobles or those with immense influence could negotiate or purchase information through their carefully guarded channels.

You might wonder how Kael planned to find them.

The truth was, they had already reached out—not to Kael, but to Kaelion, the so-called magicless boy.

Kael pulled a small, black card from his pocket, its surface smooth and cold.

Etched in dark green was the unmistakable image of a serpent coiling with silent menace—a tattooed symbol known only to those who moved in shadows.

'Why would they want Kaelion?' he wondered, a flicker of unease stirring inside him.

After all, the quiet, introverted Kaelion had simply shifted the card aside in a forgotten drawer, never daring to use it.

But now, Kael was going to use it.

After some walking, Kael finally reached the silent front of the ruined mansion.

The place looked abandoned for decades, walls crumbling, windows dark and empty.

He pulled out the card from his left pocket, feeling a bit ridiculous as he followed the instructions exactly as the letter had described:

Step one — slide the card into his right trouser pocket.

Step two — move it from there to his shirt pocket.

Step three — return it back to the left trouser pocket.

Each motion made him feel more like an idiot, performing this strange ritual in the middle of the empty street.

Once done, Kael stood still, biting his lip as he waited.

Five minutes passed.

Nothing.

"What…?"

Kael muttered, brows furrowed, scanning the empty street like it had personally insulted him.

Then—movement.

A lone figure emerged from the shadows, his steps unnaturally silent.

No noble cloak.

No sigil.

No house colors.

Just a plain tunic, worn gloves, and the kind of calm that made Kael's instincts twitch.

But his eyes locked onto something more telling—the unmistakable flash of black and green between the man's fingers.

The same card.

No words were spoken.

The man simply raised two fingers and gestured: Follow.

Kael hesitated for a breath.

Then nodded.

They moved like ghosts through a maze of forgotten streets.

Each alley seemed more cursed than the last—walls sagging with age, moss clawing up from stone like it wanted to escape, rusted lanterns swaying in a breeze Kael couldn't feel.

Not a soul in sight.

Not even rats.

This wasn't a path.

It was an erasure.

Finally, the man halted.

In front of them:

A plain stone wall.

Unmarked. Featureless.

Just stone.

Kael stared at the wall like it had personally challenged his intelligence.

The man beside him didn't speak—just pointed.

Not to a hidden door or switch, but to a slim, card-sized groove etched into the stone.

Seriously?

Kael sighed and slid the black card into the slot, half-expecting nothing, half-hoping he wouldn't explode.

Nothing happened.

He turned, ready to voice his confusion—

THUD.

A boot slammed into his back with military-grade disrespect.

"What the—?!"

Too late.

Kael was launched forward like cursed luggage, bracing for the crack of bone against rock—except it never came.

The wall didn't stop him.

It let him in.

There was no impact, only a cold, sickening pull—like diving face-first through a curtain of ice water and regret.

He flailed, stumbled, and somehow didn't die.

Feet hit solid ground. 

Kael blinked.

Darkness. Echoes.

Stone walls behind him that definitely weren't supposed to be passable.

"Could've just said it was a door," he grumbled under his breath, brushing dust off his sleeves like that would help restore dignity.

He stepped forward.

A narrow corridor stretched before him, carved from damp stone and lit by flickering green lanterns that swayed slightly—though there was no breeze.

The air smelled like old parchment and unspoken deals.

Kael exhaled slowly.

His face was no longer masked—but no alarms, no shouts.

No care.

Ahead, a tall figure waited, cloaked in robes of green and black.

He turned soundlessly and began to walk.

"Follow me," the man said—voice flat, carved clean of warmth or interest.

Kael gave a slight nod and moved after him, each step soft but echoing as if the stones were whispering behind his back.

The silence deepened as they reached a massive iron-framed door.

The robed man didn't speak, didn't knock, didn't even glance back.

He simply stepped aside.

Kael stared at him, deadpan.

"…Is everyone here allergic to small talk?" he muttered, and pushed the door open himself.

What hit him next wasn't danger.

It was warmth.

And jasmine.

The scent curled around his thoughts like smoke laced with memory—seductive, calculated, and slightly illegal.

The room beyond was rich, soaked in candlelight and decadence.

Velvet drapes, golden inlays, and a warmth that didn't match the coldness of the stone halls behind him.

Then he saw her.

Sprawled languidly across a crimson velvet chaise, a woman waited with all the grace of someone who'd never had to wait for anything in her life.

Long black hair spilled like ink over bare shoulders.

Her emerald eyes gleamed beneath heavy lashes—sharp, assessing, dangerous.

She wore silk that flirted with the idea of clothing, each thread more invitation than fabric.

"Welcome to the Veiled Serpent, Kaelion," she purred—her voice a perfect blend of velvet and venom.

Kael stopped mid-step.

Brain: blank.

Expression: neutral.

Thoughts: not suitable for public record.

He blinked.

"…Right. Of course the criminal underworld sends their representative in lingerie," he mumbled.